


not another pollen joke

by selwyn



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 18:44:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18816808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selwyn/pseuds/selwyn
Summary: When they were fourteen-year-olds, Madara promised to be his enemy. Now they're nineteen and Madara still hasn't kept his promise. But that's okay - they have other things on their minds.[The sex pollen pwp that this ship deserves.]





	not another pollen joke

“So what new thing is this?”

They sat together in their private little clearing, shielded from onlookers by the thick wall of trees that Hashirama had set up. Madara’s arms were crossed, his face impatient, and he radiated boredom in a way that screamed _get on with it._

Unfazed, Hashirama continued to concentrate on the Ram seal. “It’s a surprise…” he muttered, his eyes still closed.

“It’s _boring_ ,” Madara complained. “When you said you wanted to meet, I thought we’d actually be, you know…” He shrugged, averting his gaze. “… _doing_ stuff.”

Hashirama’s will wavered for a moment. He wanted to impress Madara… but rolling around with Madara sounded good too. It was a hard choice to make. He nearly relented but then again, he’d spent months trying to work this surprise out. He really wanted to show him this.

“…ten minutes,” he replied, cracking open one eye. “Then we move on.”

Madara huffed but he said nothing else.

With his silent permission, Hashirama continued to mold his chakra. Once he was sure he had the right shape and composition for what he wanted, his chakra seeped from his body and into the ground. Vines began to sprout around the two of them.

“Hashirama…” Madara murmured next to him.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s just… there!”

Flower buds emerged from the vines and bloomed rapidly, spilling thick pollen as their petals unfurled. Their scent was heady, similar to lavender, and they went everywhere. Madara immediately recoiled from the thick pink cloud, putting his sleeve against his nose. “What the – ?”

Oh no. That wasn’t… this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Hashirama bit his lip as he tried to make himself look unworried, but Madara was too sharp – his eyes narrowed into dangerous red slits.

“Hashirama, what did you do?”

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” Hashirama said slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m pretty sure I had the composition right, really…”

“What is this?” Madara demanded.

“Just pollen, I swear.” Hashirama put his hands up. “There should be no side-effects.”

 

* * *

 

 

There were side-effects.

He would feel really bad about this later, Hashirama reflected as he grabbed Madara’s hair and pulled hard. Madara made a noise that was a mix between a whine and a moan, and Hashirama found it _fascinating._ He never knew Madara could make sounds like that. It was doing all sorts of things to his pollen-addled brain.

He’d have to apologize. Throw himself to Madara’s mercy and hope that his friend would still _be_ his friend after this. It wouldn’t be unreasonable of him if he didn’t forgive him. After all, this was –

Madara spat into his hand and wrapped it around both their cocks. Hashirama sputtered a little, his train of thought derailed, because Madara’s grip was a little too tight and he twisted at the end of each stroke. Each time he did, he slowly pulled out Hashirama’s brains. His other hand held the back of his neck, tight and possessive.

What was he even thinking about anymore? He couldn’t remember. The pollen persuaded him to stop trying.

Madara kissed him. It was as fierce as the rest of his touch, designed to devour, and Hashirama hungrily complied. They panted into each other’s mouths, his dick twitching when Madara rubbed his thumb over the tip. Hashirama pulled his hair again, eliciting a sharp moan from Madara, who bucked his hips up at the same time.

Sparks hissed through his body. Fucking hell, sometimes it was like he forgot how attractive Madara was. Sunlight streamed down through the leafy canopy and cast speckled shadows onto his skin. The light brought out the thick, rich blackness of his hair, made him look unreal. The more he looked at him, the more he wanted him.

Hashirama ran his hand down his back and pulled down his pants the rest of the way. Madara made an annoyed noise when that knocked his rhythm off, and Hashirama kissed him again in apology.

Getting undressed was a process. Their hasty stripping when the pollen first hit had been sloppy, consisting of them frantically ripping their shirts off and pouncing on each other. Now, Hashirama yanked his sash off then kicked his hakama away, while Madara peeled his pants off one-handed, already reaching for Hashirama with the other.

Once they were naked, they grabbed each other again. They rolled around a little, pushing and shoving, trying to get the upper hand even now. Dead foliage and fallen twigs pricked their skin, but Hashirama absently grew a softer covering of moss over it all.

Finally, Madara won their wrestling match by cheating. He struggled free of the bear hug that Hashirama had him in, slipping down until he got his mouth on his dick. Hashirama immediately stopped fighting.

He grabbed Madara’s hair with both hands as he got a firm grip around his cock and swallowed him down whole without even a little licking to warm him up. Hashirama bucked when Madara began to suck, his head bobbing. In this, like he was in all things, Madara was just a little too intense. He took him down all the way in until Hashirama felt the head nudge up against the soft back of his throat, and he shouted. He dug his heels into the ground, grinding it through the grass as Madara dismantled his brain with only his mouth.

Through the mindless haze of lust, Hashirama looked down to watch his cock disappear into Madara’s slick mouth. Madara looked up when he did, and their eyes met in the middle, with his lips plumped out for his length. Madara didn’t look away. His gaze was both piercing and hazy, powerful enough to shoot past his skin and straight into his soul, and Hashirama felt more blood rush down as Madara slowly pulled back, his tongue running up the underside. 

His hand tightened enough that he knew it had to hurt, and Madara’s eyes grew hooded. Hashirama felt him nudge against his knee, felt Madara’s hard-on against his leg as he pumped his cock with his hand.

Fuck. _Fuck._ Hashirama couldn’t look away, probably wouldn’t look away even if the Sage of Six Paths walked in on them. Madara had all the power here, sucking him hungrily, his black eyes cutting him open to his innermost secrets. Yet when Hashirama tugged his head down, he didn’t fight it. He sucked sloppily, eager, obscene sounds escaping him, and when Hashirama experimentally pushed him down further, Madara choked but didn’t push him away.

It didn’t take long for Hashirama to come. It was impossible to hold out when he could hear Madara making soft, small sounds around his cock, licking up everything that he had to give. Hashirama spilled himself into his throat with a groan. Madara breathed harder but he swallowed until he was done. Hashirama pulled himself free with a guttural sigh.

He collapsed where he was, covering his eyes with his arms. He wasn’t tired but he still needed a little time to recover from that. He heard Madara moving around his knees, and he peeked at him.

Madara made eye contact with him where he was digging through their clothes, looking for something.

“What’re you doing?” Hashirama asked blearily, sitting up. His mouth watered and his body ached again. He suddenly wanted to touch Madara again.

“Needed to find something,” Madara grunted, rooting through his mantle until he found what he was looking for. He pulled it out and Hashirama was almost – almost – embarrassed by how his dick twitched when he saw the stoppered bottle of oil in his hand. He swallowed thickly.

“Let me,” he blurted when Madara ripped the cork out with his teeth and spat it away. Hashirama quickly scooted over to him and grabbed the bottle. “Please?”

Madara gave him a look. It would’ve been remarkably unaffected if it weren’t for his swollen lips and rumpled hair, and his scoff had no bite as he let Hashirama pull him closer. They settled down with Madara’s back pressed to his chest, his legs splayed apart, Hashirama wishing harder than anything that he could somehow stay here and still watch Madara from the front.

He felt… how did he feel? A little stupid, a lot turned on, numb and hazy in the way he was learning to associate with Madara. Not numb and hazy to _him_ , no. That was impossible. With Madara, Hashirama felt everything in gorgeous radiance, like he spent all of his life underwater and these stolen moments were the only times he surfaced. It was the rest of the world that was muggy and incomplete. Hashirama couldn’t remember why any of it was important and he didn’t want to.

He spilled oil over his fingers, made sure to coat them liberally before he carefully pressed a finger against Madara. At his nod, Hashirama pushed in.

There was no part to making love to Madara that he could call his absolute favorite. Each one had its charms. Like this, he could feel Madara tense up briefly as his finger slipped in, but then he sighed and relaxed. Hashirama moved carefully, taking care to wait until he added a second finger. It was a much tighter fit this time around. Madara snapped taut again, breathing hard, his knees twitching and jumping as Hashirama scissored his fingers, but he was also moving against him, rocking his hips fluidly.

“Hashirama – c’mon,” Madara muttered. He grabbed his shoulder. “Hurry up.”

Of course. Madara, always rushing through things. He could be so incredibly impatient, bucking and kicking for the next step. Hashirama didn’t take it personally. He knew that Madara just wanted everything he could get before their time was up again. But they still had a few hours, he was sure, and he wanted to enjoy this, having Madara spread out between his legs and cooperative for once.

“Not yet,” he replied, kissing the side of his head. When Madara opened his mouth to argue, Hashirama shoved his fingers deeper and curled them in a way that made Madara arch against him with a choked cry.

He was patient, even when the warmth of his afterglow began to fade and his cock began to take an interest in the proceedings. Madara, meanwhile, was still hard. Hashirama kept his touch light and slow, even when Madara dug his nails into his shoulders and started cursing. He was creative, his mouth filthy, but his voice also jumped and dipped whenever Hashirama found the right spot inside him.

“Hashirama, I will _gut_ you if you don’t – fuck!” Madara hissed when Hashirama put his other hand on his cock and squeezed gently. It was seeping at the tip, dribbling down its length, and he thumbed the slit with enough pressure that Madara was rendered speechless, just breathing hard as his head jerked side to side. His face was growing blotchy with an uneven blush that Hashirama wanted to worship.

He pulled him to the edge like that, fucking him with his fingers and pumping his cock until Madara’s hands flexed into claws. Just as he drew his knees in tight, however, Hashirama pulled out and let go of him.

Madara was immediately incandescent. “You – !” He rose up on one knee, shaking but murderous. “You did _not_ just – “

“Relax,” Hashirama just said, grabbing his shoulder. Madara tipped over without a fight, though he continued to look wrathful. “There’s no rush.”

He liked to spend his time working on their pleasure, instead of pounding away indiscriminately the way Madara would if he had his way. It just felt _good_ to touch Madara, to please him, until all his sharpness was gone and he was breathlessly pretty. Those times were rare, growing rarer, and Hashirama treasured them all.

“Say that again and I’m leaving – oh. Ohhhh...” Madara’s threats immediately died down as Hashirama flipped him over onto his chest. He pulled his hips up while Madara sputtered and he thrust into him in one hot slide that burned in the back of his throat. Madara wheezed as he clawed the ground, all the thick muscles in his back tensing up beautifully. The moss that he’d grown was all ripped up now, torn apart by Madara’s helplessly spasming hands. Hashirama bent down and kissed the back of his neck, winning a strangled moan from Madara as their hips were sealed.

For a moment, he lingered like that to just savor the feeling of Madara clenching around him and enjoy the view. There was a light sheen of sweat on Madara’s back that his hair stuck to and he was red here as well, flushing all the way down to his shoulders.

Hashirama remembered thinking Madara was pretty when they were younger. Back then, Madara had still been thin but in a different way, less childish and more mature, a kind of beauty that had long lashes and tapered fingers. He was growing out of that too now, filling out with muscle and hard bones.

It was still breathtakingly attractive. Hashirama stared as Madara grabbed the ground and then looked back at him over his shoulder. Something in him throbbed as their eyes met. If Hashirama had been a poet, he could’ve said something about the way Madara’s pale cheeks glowed red, or the scorching heat that blazed from his eyes. But he wasn’t. Madara was just really hot, he was his best friend, and he wanted to fuck him till he forgot his own name.

Hashirama bent down until he could lay his chest on Madara. He always wanted to be close to him when they did this, just to feel the way he moved and gasped. The first time he pulled back and thrust into him again, Madara wheezed his name desperately. Hashirama kissed his cheek, filled with affection for him.

Then he got to work.

He grabbed Madara below the hips, where his torso met his legs and felt the way the corded muscles of his thighs quivered as he rose obligingly. Like this, knee-deep in crazy arousal, Madara wasn’t over-thinking it. More than one tumble had been ruined by a sudden spike of self-consciousness. Right now, he was just doing whatever felt good, whatever _looked_ good, and Madara really did look good with his head pillowed on his collapsed arms, his ass up, his chest working like bellows.

Hashirama set a slow, rolling pace that dragged everything out like molasses. Madara squeezed him tight, rocked back onto him when he pushed forward, and it felt wonderful. Pleasure gripped him as Madara caught on and figured out his own rhythm. Sometimes, Hashirama pushed Madara up a little higher and his friend moaned beautifully, husky despite being muffled.

Hashirama could’ve come at any time he wanted now but he slowed down even further, determined to withhold. Madara sucking him off earlier had helped clear up his head a little. Now, he just wanted to concentrate on making Madara practically shriek into his arms before he let him off the hook.

At first, his outward reactions were small. The shuddering gasp he let out betrayed his enjoyment but he still continued to stifle his moans. His shoulders shook and flexed. His entire body trembled every time Hashirama dragged his hand down his stomach and almost touched his cock before withdrawing. He put his weight on his knees, urgently shoving himself back to feel him buried inside him again.

As their pace picked up, Hashirama held onto Madara tightly, his eyes screwed shut as his hips jerked erratically. He reached down and finally wrapped his hand around Madara, winning a ragged whimper from him. He squeezed him mercilessly as he grabbed his shoulder to have something to hold onto, and Madara bucked helplessly, locked in place.

He didn’t have to stroke him for long. Madara tensed up, clenching so hard that Hashirama saw stars, and shouted as he came. Hashirama barely managed to hold on as Madara shook under him, all his tight self-control gone as he sobbed and writhed. This was a side of Madara he hardly ever got to see and Hashirama was giddily fascinated by it, in love with it, and _oh fuck yes._

He happily followed suit, burying his dizzy laugh in Madara’s back, and listened to him try to regain his composure, gasp and curse, then give up entirely as he just panted.

It took for a few seconds for him to come down from his peak. It made him groggy and indolent, happy to lower them both down to the forest floor with him hugging Madara’s back. He breathed deeply as he littered Madara’s flushed shoulders with kisses and when he rose up to kiss his neck, he saw his face.

Madara’s eyes darted over to look at him, three black tomoe swirling in red. Then he grinned, a loose affectionate sprawl of lips and teeth, and rolled over to face him. They didn’t exchange words as Madara looped his arm around his neck and pressed their sweaty foreheads together.

For a moment, they said nothing. They just breathed heavily, staring at each other through half-lidded eyes, perfectly happy to be silent and know nothing had to be said.

Then Madara chuckled hoarsely and said, “You still need to work on that control.”

“What?” Hashirama blinked, then realized what he meant. With everything that’d been going on, he’d cut loose and now his chakra was radiating off of him in gushing waves. That explained why all the trees in the vicinity had curved towards them, helplessly drawn in.

“Ah, okay… better?”

“Mm, a bit.” Madara ran his fingers through his hair and kissed his forehead. Hashirama’s heart swelled. “You know, if this is what happens when you show me new things, you should do it a lot more.”

Oh, right. He’d been trying to apologize, right? A little dread crept in to darken his afterglow but Hashirama opened his mouth to say something when Madara bit his lip. Just… bit his lip. “Ow.”

“Shut up,” Madara grunted as he closed his eyes. “Maybe you forgot, but I wanted to get to this right away in the first place.”

The dread dissipated easily. Hashirama grinned and cupped his face. “Right. How could I forget your insane sex drive?”

“What – no, I do _not_ have an insane sex drive.”

“You’re so crazy about it, sometimes it’s a little hard to keep up –“

“You talk too much,” Madara huffed, shoving his hand in his face. “You’re so annoying, I can’t believe I bothered coming here.”

Hashirama immediately stopped grinning. He drooped like a sad flower. “Oh… well, if you don’t want to stay, I won’t keep you…”

“Can you cut out your annoying neurosis already?!”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone. As always, I'm a comment-based lifeform and the more I get, the faster I write. This bad boy has been on the backburner since February so I'm glad I finally managed to finish it.


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